"No!" she cried out, angry. Her hands clenched at her sides and she sat upright, all stiffness. "You're not listening to me at all, are you?"
"I'm a bit distracted." By your br**sts and your nearness.
Violet jerked to her feet in a fluid motion that made her br**sts bounce. Not that he noticed. Much. "Damn it, Jonathan," she cried. "What does a girl have to do to get you to notice her? If you're not attracted to me anymore, just freaking say so! Don't dance around it like an idiot."
ELEVEN
Jonathan stared at Violet as she straightened her clothing.
She tilted her head back in a haughty stare.
"Not . . . attracted to you?" he asked slowly. Was she insane? He'd been fighting his attraction tooth and nail to ensure he didn't overstep the "friends" boundary.
Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. "I'm practically throwing myself at you here."
She was? Was that what this was about? The bikini and the dinner where she practically rubbed up against him? Jonathan was in shock.
"But if you're not interested, just tell me. I know I've changed in the last few years, and I'm terrified I'm just going to get hurt again, but it seems like I'm the only one-"
Jonathan rushed forward and cupped her face between his hands. He kissed her before she could change her mind, silencing any protest she might make. "Never think that," he murmured between kisses. "Never think for a moment that I don't love and adore you."
"I'm afraid," Violet whispered, even as she clutched at his shoulders. "I'm so afraid of getting hurt again. Last time . . . it nearly broke me."
Pain shot through him at the fear in her eyes, the heartfelt emotion there. He'd done this to her. Tenderly, he brushed a thumb across one of her lovely cheeks and leaned in to kiss her again. Softly. Reverently. Then, he said, "I won't ever hurt you again. This I promise."
She gazed up at him, clearly uncertain. Then, she nodded slowly and leaned into his touch. "It's so hard for me to trust, but . . . I trust you."
He felt as if he'd been given a gift. Jonathan kissed her again, poetry springing to his mind as he gazed upon her upturned face.
"I loved you; even now I may confess
Some embers of my love their fire retain;
But do not let it cause you more distress,
I do not want to sadden you again.
Hopeless and tongue-tied, yet I loved you dearly
With pangs the jealous and the timid know;
So tenderly I loved you, so sincerely,
I pray God grant another love you so."
"That was lovely," she said in a soft, aching voice. "Who was that?"
"Pushkin," he murmured, leaning in and kissing her eyebrow reverently. He wanted to cover her entire face with kisses, and began to do so, touching his lips to her forehead, her cheek, her nose, in gentle touches. "I thought of you every time I heard that poem. Except, I fear, the last part."
"The last part?" she murmured, leaning in to each kiss that he pressed to her face.
"I don't want another to love you," he confessed, lightly placing his fingers under her chin so he could turn her heart-shaped face up to his. "Because I wanted you for myself. I've never stopped loving you. Never stopped wanting you. Every second of every day, my heart has always been yours."
Violet's beautiful eyes gazed up at him, shimmering with emotion. She didn't respond, but her hand curled behind his neck and she pulled him down for a kiss. As his lips met hers, she murmured against his mouth, "Make love to me."
"Everything I do for you is out of love," he told her between quick, fervent kisses. "It is all making love, because I do it out of love for you. But touching you? That is worship."
"Then worship me," she murmured, her other hand sliding to the front of his chest and pressing over his heart. "Show me your love."
He groaned, a surge of need flaring hot and hard through him. A mental image of tossing Violet on the bed and ripping her clothing off, savagely pounding into her as she screamed her pleasure and dragged her nails over his back, filled his mind. He shuddered. There'd be time enough for that later. For now, he wanted to seduce her. To make love to her so slowly and sweetly that she couldn't help but fall in love with him again.
He'd confessed his love. Over and over again, he'd confessed it. She'd never responded in kind. He knew that. He knew her heart was guarded, and it was up to him to break those barriers once more.
"Are you on the pill?" he asked her, making sure she knew exactly what he was asking for.
A wry smile curved her lovely mouth. "Always."
He nodded. "I'm clean."
Hesitation stiffened her body. "I am too, but I still want you to use a condom. Just, you know, in case." She bit her lip.